the photo shoot was in brighton. i walked in with my wadrobe in a gym bag and some clothes on a hanger. after signing a release form, i got into my first costume change (my colored sweater, khaki, and my pair of rectangular glasses that i never wear). there were already some "talent" there, a couple of guys in business suits, a kindergarten teacher, an urban hip chick. the makeup artist used some foundation to cover up my nevus scar and took some time to carefully trim the white paint from my hair (a sense of connection between us, she too is living at her parents while painting her new place). the talent coordinator also took a photo (with a disposable camera, even though usually they use a polaroid) of me in my outfit for their records.

what i thought was going to be a photo shoot was actually a video shoot for motion clipart. dressed in an appropriate attire standing in front of a corresponding backdrop, you were suppose to convey some sort of emotion or action. my action was stroking my beard as the camera panned down, and also a bewildered shrug. it wasn't my best night emoting, i could've done better. but standing up there with all the big camera equipment and the lights and the backdrop, i definitely got a little nervous. for the second round, one guy got dressed as a paramedic while another changed into a chef's outfit. there was a table of props and costumes, and a whole clothes rack of different outfits. right there in that room was a halloween party waiting to happen, my friend. another girl came in (sexy black girl, her role was obvious), probably the last one, as our group was the last group of the day, everyone besides the talent having been there since this morning managing the shoot. my outfit was a change of glasses and i put on a slightly oversized shortsleeved blue shirt. there was a struggle as to whether i should be bearing a baseball cap, the ones that we had all had logos on them, the talent coordinator wanted me to go with the hat, the director said no. my action (i was supose to be the internet guy) was a camera zoom on my profile as i turned to give a satisfied smile, or maybe an arrogant smirk. i think it could've been better, once again, some butterflies. i think if they wanted me to be angry or serious, i'm very good at conveying those emotions, but spontaneous gaiety, there isn't a switch that you can just turn off and on. so like that it was over, and after saying good bye to some people, i left.

it wasn't the crazy glitzy high fashion world of modeling i had imagined. i was thinking i'd be in a forest of tall professional model types, totally out of my elements, floundering in my awkwardness. the talent was mixed, some people looked like everyday people, others you could sort of see that they might have it a little bit together than your average person. there was a lot of waiting, waiting for them to shoot someone, waiting for them to set up the equipment. people sat around, reading magazines, or watching the crew work. there was a table of snacks, but i went there after dinner so i wasn't hungry. definitely interesting. it would've been cool just to come visit and not even be in the actual shoots.

i spent the whole day a hostage in my parent's house in belmont. i took a day off from my relentless painting schedule so i wouldn't get paint all over my hands and in my hair or on any other parts of my body. (however, i did stop by the house today to grab my camera that i accidently left there and some clothes, talking briefly with my neighbor jeff about the progress of his own renovations.) i started to move some boxes full of magazines downstairs into the basement for storage, but i dinged my elbow and gashed my knee, and figured i better stop before i get all cut up. i did laundry instead, figured that was a very low risk activity.

i began to get very self-conscious about doing anything that could mar my appearance. that nicely healing nevus scar, am i going to lose a modeling gig because of it? i haven't even done a day of modeling yet and already i find myself thinking like a model, or how i think models think. can't imagine what real models go through, this pressure to stay physically perfect, to have your job dependent entirely on how you look. something about that level of superficiality seems so alien for me. i've gone through most of my life not really caring how i look, and certainly no jobs that i've had ever depended on my looks (not that i know of anyway, except for this recent modeling job). and when you're online as much as i am, and you communicate with people in this faceless voiceless world of instant messaging and e-mails, everything is dependent on what's in your mind, not on what's outside. of course i'll be honest and admit that i imagine everyone i'm online conversing with to me fabulously good looking. i'm as shallow as the next guy.

i'm gone in 20 more minutes. exciting world of modeling, here i come.